


what happens to stormtroopers

by nevereverever



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Fever, Fuck JJ they were gay the whole time, Gay, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stormtrooper Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereverever/pseuds/nevereverever
Summary: “Finn, they’re gonna give you something. They’re gonna take care of you.” Who was they? An enemy. He needed to escape, he had an objective.He knew what happened to stormtroopers who lose battles.orFinn gets sick, and Stormtrooper programming doesn't go away so easy. But he has people who love him, and he's gonna be okay.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 33
Kudos: 487





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks. For the record, this wrote itself. 
> 
> As I'm sure you know, Mind the Tags, but I do promise that everything turns out alright. Happy reading!

FN-2187 wasn’t sure how long he had been here. The white gleam off his armor nearly blinded him, ignited a sharp pain in his head.

The sands around him were writhing. Shifting, eating, slithering. They were white-hot and they were everywhere. He didn’t remember where he was, why he was stuck here with the hot, thrashing sands and the impenetrable atmosphere that stuck in his lungs so he couldn’t take a breath. He coughed and he felt sand in his mouth, it tasted like blood and like fire. 

He had to get moving towards his objective. What was his objective?

He took an inventory of his surroundings. He could see- eyes. They stared into him, through him.

 _“Finn?”_ Someone slurred his designation, but the sands took them before they finished the 2187. He felt his hip for his blaster but it wasn’t there. What did they want from him?

He was shaking like there was an earthquake in this desert wasteland. Everywhere the sand touched hurt, cut and froze him. He couldn’t move. His eyes were burning out of his head. His head which was exploding, every second closer to the death he knew was coming if he couldn’t pull it together and perform his function. 

_“Finn, they’re gonna give you something. They’re gonna take care of you.”_ Who were they? An enemy. He needed to escape, he had an objective.

There was a prick in his leg, and the vivid, terrible desert started to deform. There was a catch in his throat and he coughed and retched as the world around him stretched and broke. He fought to keep hold of his consciousness, but it was a losing battle. 

He knew what happened to stormtroopers who lose battles.

When he woke again, he was tied down. He couldn’t feel the cool metal of the restraints around him, but he was sure of it. He gagged, bile in his throat, and something pushed him until he was on his side. Whatever it was held an electric charge to his back, and he arched to get away from it. 

_“I’m sorry,”_ something that wasn’t him said, somewhere far away. When it withdrew, he was panting, gasping, wheezing and it burned, throbbed, seared.

He tried to come up for air, but the atmosphere turned liquid, too heavy to breathe. The iron taste in his mouth consumed his senses and he heaved, curling in the middle. The electric charge came back, this time at his head, and he wondered if they were wiping him. At least that meant he would forget this.

He summoned the energy left in his failing body. He wanted to say something, last words, but all that came out was a whimper. The restraints came back, and there was a noise near his ear. Like rushing water.

 _“Shh, Finn, shh, you’re alright.”_ He was not. He didn’t meet his objective. He was sick, he was dying.

No use like this.

No use to anyone. 

He knew what happened to useless stormtroopers.

The next time he woke up, there was a body pressed up behind his. He didn’t jerk away, couldn’t, he was too tired. It was dragging on him like his armor had been weighted. 

He was already in his grave. He was in pain, terrible pain, so maybe this was the death he deserved. The body behind him was another stormtrooper who couldn’t hack it. Maybe they were a coward, a failure. Maybe they were like FN-2817. Got sick. He braced himself for the blaster shot to the head he knew was coming. He wondered if anyone would remember him.

Then the body behind him moved. Its arms, paradoxically warm, grabbed him by the middle and held tight. And FN-2187 wasn’t scared. Maybe that was part of his defect, but he felt safe. Maybe that was the last comfort to a man sentenced to death.

 _“I love you,”_ the body whispered. So that was why the trooper behind him was fated to die. He believed in love. FN-2187 coughed again, tearing his throat to shreds. He hoped beyond hope he hadn’t infected anyone in his regiment, they shouldn’t die like this. 

“Hope I die quick,” he rasped. The words came out mangled, but it was the first thing he’d said in so long. Maybe the last thing he would say, with nobody but the dead to hear it. The arms around him tightened, and this time they didn’t feel safe, they felt heavy and disgusting and rotting and retching and heaving and-

There was a rush of noise, then silence. Death?

What’s a dead stormtrooper but weight?

The next time he woke up, he opened his eyes. It shouldn’t have been an epiphany, but it was. He opened his eyes and there was light, too bright for him to see. And he hurt, but it was okay, he was dead, he was free. Nothing was holding him down, so he rubbed his aching eyes with an aching hand. There was a noise, but it was so hard to focus. The sound got sharper and closer.

“Finn? You with me, buddy?” They said his designation wrong again, why did they keep doing that? He hummed his ascent, and he felt it rumble through his chest. The pain dimmed a little and it was sweet. 

“Being dead is so easy. Why didn’t I do this before?” His eyes drifted closed again. He didn’t have to stay awake, he didn’t have to fight. He’d fulfilled his purpose as long as he could, then he couldn’t, now he was done.

“No. No, Finn, you aren’t dead, don’t say that.” Something took his hand, so gently that he barely felt it at all. It was warm though, and bright like the lights here. 

Why wouldn’t they just let him die?

“‘S okay,” he slurred, losing energy quickly, “don’t have to fight anymore.”

“No, you don’t. You’re safe, the fight’s over.” FN-2187 tried to nod. His designation rang through his head and echoed in every corner. Something about it was wrong. Something about it wasn’t true, and he needed to find out what, but the world was so heavy, and he didn’t have to fight anymore.

"You're safe Finn." He couldn’t believe that, but there was nothing left in him again, so he let go.

He wasn’t sure if he was a stormtrooper if he couldn’t fight anymore.

When Finn woke up, he felt sick. He needed to throw up. He started to cough, and someone put a bin in front of him before he made a mess. He dry-heaved and coughed for a while, and when he finally stopped he realized that the person holding him up was Poe. 

And then everything was okay.

"Poe," he gasped, throat still raw.

"Finn? You remember me?" Poe's hands ran up and down his arms and it felt good. Nothing had felt good in so long. Finn nodded and let some of the tension in his body unwind. “D’you know where you are?” 

Finn thought about it for a long moment. If they were with the First Order, they wouldn’t let Poe hold him like this. If he was dead, then Poe was dead too. 

“Resistance,” he stated simply, hoping beyond hope he was right.

“Good, good. You’re gonna be okay, Finn. You’re safe here with us.” Finn moved closer, pulled Poe until his head was resting on his lover’s broad, strong chest. They rested like that for a while, Poe holding them together as if his life depended on it.

“I love you. I missed you,” Poe said after a while. He pressed his cheek into the top of Finn’s head. 

“I love you too,” Finn said back, and it felt so natural that he had no time to question whether stormtroopers can love because he did. He loved this man so much and so deeply that his heart could burst. He started to cough again, but Poe was rubbing circles into his chest with his free hand. That man, he was what mattered.

Once the coughing slowed down enough that he could think, he realized he was shivering. The kind of shivers that feel like your bones will crack open from the inside.

“M’cold,” he managed to spit out between coughs. 

“No, love, you have a fever. A terrible, ridiculous fever that tried to take you from me.” Finn’s head spun. Someone was trying to take him? Why now, when he had just found his love again?

“Don’t let them take me,” he cried out. It stung his throat to talk and the tears stung his eyes. Poe rubbed his back with a soothing hand.

“No, baby, nobody’s coming to take you. You’re safe here. You’re just sick, and I’m gonna make sure you get better.” Finn relaxed again. He realized that he was running out of energy again. Every time he’d woken up, it’d been somewhere different. He wondered if he’d wake up here again.

“Gonna keep me?” He asked, voice so quiet and small he wasn’t sure he’d be heard. But he felt Poe’s breath stutter, and he felt the warmth around him, and he felt and felt and felt.

“Yes, of course. Gonna keep you, always. You’re still you. Sleep, love, it’s okay.” So he did.

And he was still himself, in sleep. He was a soldier, sure. He was a general, he was a friend, he was a lover. He was Finn. He was a person. He was so much more than a stormtrooper now. 

He woke up again and thought about how often he’d been doing that lately. His room was loud, and his head pounded and he was so happy. He dozed for a while, listening to snippets.

“Blue Squadron came back from their mission to one of the last bases on our list of quadrants in danger of falling back to the order. No casualties and they came back with more than 50 defected troopers---”

“The Civilian Corps is working with the local governments on 72 planets. We’re trying not to send combatants into these sectors if possible. When we’ve been at war for this long---”

“I was so worried. When the seizures started I was sure we were going to lose him. The Doc said that if he didn’t remember soon---”

“Miss him---”

Finn blinked his eyes open slowly. Poe was a warm presence at his side, Rey at the foot of the bed. Rose had pulled up a chair, files in her hands and a pen tucked behind her ear. A few other Resistance figures were gathered on stools and in chairs and on the floor.

“He’s awake!” Rose said, her eyes flitting up from the paperwork on her lap. She threw it all rather unceremoniously on the ground and walked to his bedside. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Good to see you alive, General.” Her eyes had a teasing glint to them. Rey squeezed his knee and Poe held his hand and his toes were cold. What a wonderful thing to be present enough to realize he had cold toes! 

“How long?” He trailed off, looking at all the people who were happy to see him. 

“A week. We were really worried there for a second, Finnie,” Poe said, with just the barest hint of a smile at the pet name. They caught eyes and just looked at each other for a minute, the rest of the world fading into the background. Poe’s eyes said everything he wouldn’t dare say aloud. ‘I was so scared, Finn. I can't bury you.’

“Do I have work to do?” He asked, nudging at Poe’s abandoned datapad with his knee. The room burst into laughter, and Rey swiped up the datapad before either of them could get to it. When she looked at him, her eyes went sad for a second before she turned to Rose and started talking again. 

“No, love. All you gotta do is feel better,” Poe whispered in his ear among the raucous noise. Everyone got back to work. It was warm and bright and so real that Finn didn’t have to wonder if it was a dream anymore.

And maybe his past was always going to lurk in his brainstem, raring to fight when he lets down his guard. But, he realized, he had people who would fight back. They knew, better than he did sometimes, that he wasn’t just a trooper anymore. He was a person, real and whole, and just as bright as the rest of them. 

He smiled, and he squeezed Poe’s hand. 

He was gonna get better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to hanaismorechilli for both asking me to do this and then reminding me several months later as I had forgotten. 
> 
> Same content as before different perspective.

They were all so busy in the aftermath of the Battle of Exegol that all 3 of them were eager to get back to work after Tattoine. Organizing the fall of the First Order, the freeing of Stormtroopers, and the demilitarization of the galaxy, it took a toll. They worked 13 or 15 hour days, only managing to get to their quarters, collapse into each other’s arms, and fall asleep. 

Poe noticed something wrong with Finn in the moments after they landed the Falcon back on D’Qar. His squadron wouldn't let him live it down if he admitted it, but he learned to tell from the way his friends held themselves if they were okay. They all had little tells. Pava bit her lip, Oddy did a thing with his eyes, and Finn? When Finn felt bad, but he wanted to hold himself together, he put his arms behind his back, the fingers of his left hand encircling his right wrist. A Stormtrooper thing, Poe could only guess. He threw a casual arm around Finn’s shoulders as they walked from the airstrip to command.

“You alright, buddy?” He asked, voice low so the troops around him wouldn’t hear. No need to seed worry in the cavalry. 

“I’m alright. Felt weird since leaving Tatooine.” He finished the sentence with a cough. They'd arrived at the door of the command center, and they stopped at the threshold.

"Think the Resistance fell apart without us?" Poe asked, a grin spreading across his face. He brushed a bit of dust off of Finn’s shoulder.

"It's been 24 hours," Finn replied, deadpan, "so probably."

It hadn’t. Well, not entirely. Some things had slipped through the cracks was all, and Finn and Poe were on their feet for the next eight hours. And in the passing moments of rest, Poe’s eyes kept catching on Finn, hands behind his back, right hand in left. 

When an ensign rushed up to him, her face painted with worry, the words “It’s the General” on her lips, he figured Finn had collapsed from exhaustion. Wouldn’t be the first time. Poe swore the kid would work himself to death someday. 

There were people crowded around and he pushed through them, bumping roughly against shoulders and knees. And he saw Finn, lying on the ground with his eyes wide open but unseeing. He was shivering, but it was more than that, almost like there was a battle happening inside him that Poe couldn’t hope to see. He turned to the ensign he’d come with. Her eyes were teary, but so were his. 

“I need you to go get someone from Medical,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster. “It’s gonna be okay.” She was gone before he finished but he needed to hear it as much as she did. 

“Finn?” He asked, putting a hand on his partner’s forehead. He was burning up like a ship low on cooling fluid and it was a terrifying heat. A ‘the ship will blow if you don’t fix this, flyboy’ heat. Finn’s hands were grabbing for something, but nothing was there. His eyes didn’t focus. Someone handed Poe a chemical cooling pack which didn’t feel like enough but it was all he had. He pressed it to Finn’s forehead. It shouldn’t have hurt him as much as it did when Finn flinched away so hard that a strangled noise left his throat.

Someone was running towards them, but he didn’t have the brainpower to comprehend who it was. He couldn’t take his eyes off Finn, writhing on the ground, eyes wide open.

The medic, whose name he couldn’t place, started working. Maybe it was that things were moving so quickly but he couldn’t figure out what they were doing, so he just trained his eyes on Finn. 

“We need to get his fever down.” The medic turned to Poe with a slight grimace on their face. He nodded, unsure exactly what they were asking. But he would agree to anything if it would keep him safe.

“Finn, they’re gonna give you something. They’re gonna take care of you,” he said, resting a hand on Finn’s shoulder that he blessedly didn’t push away. The medic, Gavyn, he finally remembered, pulled out a syringe and a bottle of something blue from their bag. 

He started to cough again. The cough was deep and sounded so painful that Poe winced just hearing it. He abandoned the cooling pack and instead rubbed his hand into the warm skin of Finn’s chest, hoping to soothe in some small measure. 

“Hold him still, please,” Gavyn murmured. The ensign who’d found Poe tentatively placed her hands on Finn’s leg to immobilize it. He pretended not to see the tears in her eyes. Gavyn was quick and efficient. Finn struggled for just a moment before going limp. His eyes finally closed and Poe could feel his skin get a little cooler.

“We need to get him to Medical, that’s a temporary fix and 104 is much higher than- Was he sick before you left for your last mission?” They turned to him, steely and focused. 

“No, he was fine,” he said, shaking his head. There wasn’t any way he could have missed this. There’s a difference between being tired and fainting and delirium. There was no way in the damn galaxy he would have missed any of it.

“Alright, let’s get him to a bed and an IV.” Poe nodded and scooped Finn into his arms. He was completely limp, and it took an awkward shuffling of limbs to get him supported. 

“Gavyn,” he said as they made the short walk, “remind me to give you a promotion or somethin’.” They had a nice laugh, and it almost broke the tension.

“Yes, General Dameron.”

Finn lying on the cots in Medical was one of the saddest sights Poe had ever seen, and he had not had an easy life. He was propped up, connected to an IV and monitors, eyes fluttering. 

He started to cough, then gag, and if there was one thing that Poe knew from his field medic training, it was to get him on his side. When Poe touched him, he flinched away like the contact burned. He pulled his hand away like he’d been shocked, he couldn’t stand to hurt his poor Finn. He rubbed the skin of his palm. He was used to hurting people. He was a soldier, he had killed for his cause. Not like this

“I’m sorry,” he said reflexively. Finn didn't answer, just kept coughing up bile and struggling against unseen demons. Someone rushed in, then more and more people all talking above each other.

Poe just watched his partner jerk and fight and cough and burn. The medical people said that he wasn’t unconscious, just not responding. Finn whimpered like he was in pain, like he was afraid. Poe leaned in so he was next to his partner’s ear. 

“Shh, Finn, shh, you’re alright.” Finn quieted again with what was almost a sigh and some of the tension in Poe's chest eased. "You're going to be okay, bud."

He held Finn's hand a little tighter, pressed his forehead into the railing, and let out a long breath. He could feel Finn's pulse under his fingers and he focused on it. Each beat said alive, alive, alive.

They talked, while Finn was sick. Well, Poe talked and Finn tossed and turned in a fitful and painful sleep. Finn coughed and shook and mumbled nonsense about dying. Poe would situate them on the uncomfortable, too small bed and talk. He was always a talker when the chips were down. He would fight until he couldn’t, and then he would talk. There was nothing here to fight.

"I know you're gonna wake up," he said. "You know how I know? Because you have to be awake if we're gonna get married." Finn made a noise that sounded almost like a word, then let out a series of agonizing sounding coughs. Poe rubbed soothing circles into his chest.

"We're gonna get married," Poe said over the sound of the coughing, "We'll go get married on Yavin 4 under the Force Tree on the Homestead. It's going to be perfect, just you wait." Finn's coughing stopped.

"We have so much wedding planning to do once you get better, love," he said around the lump in his throat. He traced the line of Finn's cheekbone with his fingertip.

"Troopers- can't- we-" Finn mumbled one word at a time, "punished." His breathing settled down into something that sounded more like sleep and less like the awful clawing fever that had taken him hostage.

"Good thing you're not with them then. You're with me and I love you and I'll propose as soon as you get better. Just you wait." He settled his head on Finn’s shoulder and tried to sleep, but the lights were bright in the ward and his love was shaking underneath him. 

“I don’t want to do this without you. I don’t want to be here without you, I can’t lead without you, I won’t be happy without you. But I don’t know how to fix this. The doctors don’t know either. So I’m gonna stay here and talk to you,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb across Finn’s collarbone, “and you have to fight as hard as you can. Not like you were trained, not like a trooper. Fight like you.”

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he thought Finn might have been a little cooler.

They kept Finn in Medical longer than he wanted to be there. ‘Dust fever’ the doctors called it, contracted on Tatooine. Very rare in adults, but they wanted to keep him there for study. He absolutely hated it.

“I am bored. I have work to do,” he said, his vote still scratchy from the endless, endless coughing. Poe tipped his head back and sighed. Stubborn ass.

“You’re not bored, you almost died, there’s a difference,” he corrected. Finn rolled his eyes and sat up, his shoulders shaking with fatigue “What is it going to take for me to get you to take a nap?”

“I just want to go back to work. I want to do something, I have to be useful.” The breath caught in Poe’s throat. The word useful echoed in his head. He looked at Finn, there and whole and with the fire in his eyes that was so distinctly his own. Even after all this time, his boyfriend still thought he needed to be useful to them. He rubbed his hand over his forehead and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to be anything,” he took Finn’s hands in his own, “we- I love you for the person you are, not the work that you do,” Finn tried to object but he kept going, “I don’t need you to ever work again. You deserve this care. _You._ ” Finn blinked at him, processing.

“I know,” he said after a moment, small and quiet. Poe smiled and nodded.

“Okay. I’m going to keep telling you, though.” Finn nodded back. “Now, go to sleep. There’s something I want to talk to you about when you wake up.” He let go of Finn’s hands and gently shoved him back into the pillows. 

“Why can’t we just talk about it now?” Finn raised an eyebrow but didn’t move to get up.

“Because this is the only ammo I have left,” he leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to Finn’s forehead, “sleep now love.” 

He did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all liked that!!! First work in the fandom, but I care too much about these dorks not to whump them. Leave me a comment if you have something to say, I'd love to hear it.


End file.
